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I am content because before me looms the hope of love. I do not have it; I do not yet have it. It is a bird strong enough to lead me by the rope it bites; unless I pull, it is strong enough for me. I do worry the end of my days might come and I will not yet have it. But even then I will be brave upon my deathbed, and why shouldn’t I be? I held things here, and I felt them. And to all I felt I will whisper hosanna for goodbye. It is sweet to think of myself, alone at that very moment, able to say such a thing to all that was my life, and to all that was not. |
SELECTIONS FROM OF RIVERS APPEAR IN VOLUME 49.3
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CURRENT ISSUE
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CONTACT
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DEPARTMENT OF ENGLISH
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